My poem “absolute zero” is the featured “Poem of the Issue” in this week’s edition of The Austin Chronicle. This one has its origins in a journal entry from early 1989 which was forgotten and then rediscovered in October 2010 when I was working on the Iron Man Family Outtakes project. I can’t remember now in what state of completion this piece was when I found it, but I don’t think I had to do a whole lot of work to finish it.

I have extremely vivid memories of writing many of my poems: what was going on for me in that moment, the time, place, circumstances, etc. For others (like this one), I can’t recall much more than a general context and a time frame. Then there are those pieces, some of which are quite significant, for which I have no recollection whatsoever of the process of creation after some time has passed. Why I would remember writing some so well and others not at all has always been a mystery to me.

As I’ve been reading this one right now, it seems to me that it started with me feeling like I was too blocked to write anything (first two lines), which is kind of ironic in retrospect. I toss off a few lines in a journal, forget about them, and 22 years later I have a published poem. What a crazy, mysterious, unpredictable process this is.

Today’s poem on video, “wild cactus dancer”, is from part three (“intimacy and illusion”) of my upcoming book Scapegoat’s Cross: Poems about Finding and Reclaiming the Lost Man Within.

It didn’t take me a long time to write this one, but it took me about fifteen years to get ready to write it.

For more poetry on video, visit my YouTube channel at http://www.youtube.com/user/rickbeldenpoet.

stripped down
stripped out
tripped out
tripped over.

tripped over my own hands
tripped over my own feet
stripped down + tripped over
over + over
over + out.

(PDF version)

the car won’t start
the bottle is empty
the air is frozen
the house is silent
the windows are painted shut.

(PDF version)

but our little house of lies isn’t big enough to hold us now
she won’t stand up for herself + I can’t stand up
for both of us at the same time anymore
so we ride the broken lover’s seesaw of staying + leaving
one foot in + one foot out
we dance in the kitchen like unloved children + wait
for fulfillment of old pain’s expectations.

so anxious to leave
so anxious to be left
so anxious to be right
so anxious to be hurt
so anxious to be disappointed
so anxious to be alone again.

when this whole thing started
I wanted us to be immersed in each other
I wanted us to fix each other
I thought that was what people were supposed to do
I don’t want that anymore
I don’t need that anymore
but I still don’t know
how to love someone I don’t want to fix.

(PDF version | Video version)

he went to work every day in the new moon werewolf factory
which specialized in producing mechanical men
prone to blown gasket meltdowns.

living with dynamite dick was like
eating a barbed wire sandwich
while soaking in an acid bath hot tub
during a thunderbolt crossfire.

his mouth was a non-stop blasphemy festival.

he was a walking argument with god
and his obstinance was rewarded
with numerous lightning rod enemas.

dynamite dick fell in love with a french kiss steamroller
and used his powers of hostility to turn her into an angry farm girl.

he ordered a standup fistfight
but found himself in a tunnel vision break dance
and wound up in the wish list penalty box
with a bad case of
overload hammerlocks.

dynamite dick was raised by a family of feuding tomahawks
and grew up to be an angry ax.

his childhood was a frozen tar pit full of bellowing dinosaurs
who wanted out and ate anyone who tried to lend a hand.

now dynamite dick works on his prostate scrapbook
and seeks safety in numbness.

his life was a raw deal
and he knew it
and he passed that raw deal on
to everyone he could
every chance he got.

(PDF version)